


the armistice

by whiskerprince



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hybrids, Animal Behaviors, Animal Instincts, Coming of Age, Cultural Differences, M/M, Roommates, cat!wooseok, dog!hangyul, hey i saw ur mean craiglist ad and decided i want to live with you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27852642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskerprince/pseuds/whiskerprince
Summary: “Are you crazy?!”Hangyul holds the phone away from his ear and winces. He waits until Dohyun has let out a few frustrated barks before he puts it back up to his ear. “You told me to pick a strong and fair roommate,” Hangyul says in a small voice.“I never said to get a cat hybrid!” Dohyun wails. “I was thinking like a wolf or a bear or a big deer, not—not—seriously, are you crazy?”
Relationships: Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: Blazing Lights





	the armistice

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: "It's a very popular belief that cats and dogs never get along but it's definitely an exception for dog hybrid hangyul and cat hybrid wooseok."
> 
> yeah, as if i could resist writing furry gyulcat.

“If you keep sighing like that,” Dohyun says, “people will start to think you’re depressed.”

The thing is though, Hangyul _is_ depressed. He’s depressed looking at the stacks of labeled cardboard boxes in the hallway, he’s depressed looking at Dohyun’s empty halves of the pantry in the kitchen and the cupboards under the sink, and he’s depressed lying on the carpet of Dohyun’s room as he packs up the last of his belongings. He’s happy for Dohyun, of course he’s happy for him, but it’s finally hitting Hangyul that this is goodbye to a way of life and a roommate and little brother he has been with since Dohyun was a pup.

Dohyun nudges Hangyul with his foot. “Are you searching for apartments? I told you to search for apartments.”

“I’m looking,” Hangyul grumbles. 

“You’re not. You’re staring at the ceiling.”

Hangyul sighs again.

Dohyun stops packing his slippers and pajamas and lies on the ground next to Hangyul, shoulder to shoulder. Like this, with their bodies stretched out, Hangyul can really feel how big Dohyun has gotten. He towers over Hangyul now, and even if he’s not so keen on working out, there’s muscle and thickness to his body. He’s solid, strong. Dohyun is no longer a gangly little mutt—he’s grown into a fine adult. Even his round cheeks have started to lose their chubbiness and show the lines of his face. Dohyun is grown now, and it’s time for him to leave the den.

“It’s not like I’m dying,” Dohyun says, ever practical. “Massachusetts is only a couple hours away by plane.”

Hangyul groans.

Dohyun rests his head against Hangyul’s. “I’ll come back for Chuseok. Even if I have a big exam, I’ll come back.”

“You better,” Hangyul grumbles.

“In return, though,” Dohyun says. “You better find a nice apartment with a nice roommate or two. I don’t want to come back to a depression den.”

“No promises.”

“Hyung.”

Hangyul turns to him. “Okay,” he agrees gently. “Okay, I’ll be good. I’ll have so much fun while you’re at university that you come running home from missing me so much.”

“Yeah,” Dohyun says. “I’d like that.”

Hangyul reaches over to pet Dohyun on the head. Dohyun’s velvety, folded ears twitch and he can’t hide the way his tail thumps lightly on the floor. The vicelike clenching around Hangyul’s heart eases slightly and he pets Dohyun until his eyes close.

“You’re soft, hyung,” Dohyun says quietly. 

“Isn’t that my line for you?” Hangyul laughs and scratches Dohyun behind the ear.

Dohyun leans into it. “I meant in your heart. You’re soft and kind and even though you’re strong enough to deal with anything that comes your way, it would be really easy to take advantage of your kindness.”

“Wow,” Hangyul says, “that’s deep.”

“I mean it.” Dohyun kicks him lightly in the shin. “That’s why I want you to find a good roommate in a nice apartment. Someone who is really strong but also like, morally upright? Maybe a little dumb. Someone who will be nice to you and respect your boundaries and never take more than you’re willing to give.”

“That’s a lot to memorize,” Hangyul complains.

Dohyun kicks him again. “Then just find someone strong and fair, weirdo.”

“Okay,” Hangyul says. “Okay. I will do as my precious Dohyunnie says.”

“Good,” Dohyun says, snuggling up closer to him.

.

.

.

Hangyul does not cry when he drops Dohyun off at the airport. He’s not really that kind of guy anyway, the kind to cry. If he cried, then Dohyun would be upset. And for as much as Hangyul will miss him, he sees the way Dohyun talks about MIT and his new college roommate who he’s been chatting with online. His entire face lights up and his tail wags and he talks so fast that he nearly trips over his words. Dohyun is trying to hide his excitement on the way to the airport, but Hangyul can see him smiling out the window.

So Hangyul doesn’t cry. He smiles patiently and talks and laughs with Dohyun until they get to security. He smiles even when Dohyun’s smile falls away and he turns to Hangyul and pulls him into the tightest, fiercest hug he’s ever been given. 

“Oi,” Hangyul says with a light laugh. “No need for the theatrics.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Dohyun says into Hangyul’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Hangyul says. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

When Dohyun pulls away his eyes are red but he’s too tough now to let the tears fall in front of Hangyul. He’s puffing his cheeks out to keep from crying and it makes Hangyul laugh, genuinely. 

“Go on,” he urges gently. “You’re gonna be late.”

Dohyun nods a couple times and after one final, searching look over Hangyul, he turns and heads to security. Hangyul waits and watches him until he’s all the way through, but Dohyun doesn’t look back.

.

.

.

It takes several days of moping before Hangyul is ready to look for a new apartment. He stays close to Dohyun’s scent until it becomes stale, curling up in his old room to nap and lying on the couch where they used to watch movies together. But Dohyun’s room starts to smell musty with the windows closed, so finally Hangyul gives it up and opens the window to air out Dohyun and carry on with his life.

Truth be told, Hangyul isn’t exactly the best judge of character, as is true of most dog hybrids. He trusts easily and loves even easier than he trusts, so Dohyun probably isn’t wrong about how simple it would be to trick Hangyul and take advantage of his kindness. Dohyun is a retriever—he’s smart enough to overlook the dumb loyalty that runs through his veins and logically sort out what the best course of action is. He’ll chase a ball as fast as the rest of them, but when it comes to sorting out Hangyul’s affairs, he’s a better advocate for Hangyul than Hangyul is for himself. So when Dohyun tells him to find a strong, fair roommate, that’s just what Hangyul will do.

Fortunately, he's starting work at a nearby state university in their health center and there’s no shortage of housing availability in the area. He avoids the undergrads who will be in and out in a matter of years and aims for the older demographic—graduate students or like him, employees of the university who want to stick around for a bit longer and are unlikely to flake out on their lease or trash the place. His search leads him outside the boundaries of the university center, but the places in surrounding neighborhoods are cheaper and quieter anyway.

Hangyul avoids roommates who are small prey animal hybrids—not that he has any problem with them but being a large mutt hybrid, he tends to make them nervous. He’s not interested in reptilian or amphibious hybrids either, as they are known to be hell with humidifiers and thermostats. Bovines and cervids are a possibility, as neither are a natural enemy of canids, but there are not many who can be found living in a city center. Hangyul sighs. It’s harder than he thought.

He gets a notification for a listing as he’s pulling off his shirt for bed. It’s an old listing, he finds as he opens it, one that the lessee has paid to have promoted.

“You must be feeling a little desperate,” Hangyul murmurs.

Or not. The room advertisement is chilly and factual with no warmth or friendliness emanating from the text. The apartment itself is lovely: recently remodeled; a kitchen with plenty of counter space; lots of natural light; and the current tenant has dotted the apartment with small green plants. The rent is fair, too. Hangyul scrolls to the tenant’s information. A graduate student in his second year, no photo, cat hybrid. 

Hangyul scratches the side of his nose. A cat hybrid? Well...he doesn’t say what kind of cat, and he’s checked off a box for ‘no preference’ in terms of hybrid family. The only specifications he has is a list of rules. _Keep to your space and I’ll keep to mine. Always keep the front door locked, and the balcony door locked at night. No visitors unless cleared with the other first. Quiet hours between 10PM and 8AM. Chores will be split and we can rotate on a weekly or monthly basis._

Hangyul hums, then after a moment’s contemplation, signs up for a viewing time.

—XXX—

“Hi,” Hangyul says, ducking his head. “I’m here for a roommate meet-up?”

For a moment, he thinks the guy isn’t going to let him in. His eyes—huge with pupils blown—scan Hangyul up and down, as if to make sure yes, indeed, this is a dog hybrid at the door. Hangyul is certain his scent is unmistakable. He resists the urge to scratch behind his ear.

“...Come in,” he says after a pause.

He’s stiff opening the screen door, but makes way for Hangyul to step into the apartment. As described in the ad and the photos, the apartment is spacious and well-lit. The ceiling fan spins lazily over a cozy three-seat sofa and a massive television. The door to the balcony is open and the soft breeze that blows in smells of the little herb garden growing in planters hung on the railing. A speaker in the kitchen plays something down-tempo and jazzy as background noise. Hangyul’s ears perk up. 

“Leave your shoes at the door,” the guy says as Hangyul takes a step into the apartment. “Please,” he adds after a beat.

Hangyul obediently backtracks and toes off his shoes. “It’s...Wooseok, right?” He asks, flashing the guy a grin.

“Yes,” Wooseok says. “Hangyul, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” Hangyul says.

“Right.” Wooseok takes a breath. “Well, I’ll give you the tour and then we can talk business.”

Hangyul nods.

Besides the open kitchen-living room, there are two bedrooms and a shared bathroom in the apartment. Wooseok has already claimed the smaller bedroom—a tidy, dark space with the window shade pulled down and an excess of pillows arranged on top of the bed. The second bedroom is much bigger and completely bare with plenty of room for Hangyul to fit all his stuff. 

“Didn’t want to take the big one for yourself?” He asks, curious.

Wooseok shakes his head. “I’m not comfortable in an open space.”

Hangyul’s nose twitches. “Is it a cat thing?”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot to his, cutting. He has a fierce expression, but seems to settle when he realizes that Hangyul isn’t trying to pick a fight. “Cats do prefer snug spaces with pressure on their sides,” Wooseok says. 

“Hence the body pillows,” Hangyul says.

“...Hence the body pillows.” Wooseok’s tail twitches.

Is he being annoying? Maybe. It’s not the best impression to give someone who he’s trying to live with, but Hangyul can’t help himself. Small cat hybrids never let him get this close and he’s never had any felid friends, save for the lioness on the basketball team he played with sometimes. Cats are renowned for their grace, their power, and their chilly personalities—all things Hangyul can’t claim about himself. And so far Wooseok is delivering on all three.

Hangyul’s a mutt—he was adopted and never knew his birth parents, so he’s not really sure what makes up his pedigree other than that it’s something big. He has big, pointed ears even if one tends to flop over and a bushy tail that will sometimes curl onto itself. But Dohyun was a purebred retriever and Hangyul knows from just a few minutes with him that Wooseok is the same. His ears are perfect triangles and uniform in color. His tail is long and long-haired, but unlike Hangyul’s bottlebrush, it is silky and moves like water when Wooseok walks. The wide, bright eyes and neatly kept claws all point to the same answer: purebred.

Not that Hangyul could name a cat breed other than Persian for the life of him. He wants to sniff Wooseok and also maybe touch his tail a lot, but reins in his curiosity for the sake of not being a freak.

“Well, that’s my place,” Wooseok says. “Is it as you expected?”

“Yeah,” Hangyul says. “It’s great. There’s not a single thing to complain about.”

Wooseok takes a deep breath. “About that. There is the condition of following my rules.”

“Lock the door, no unexpected guests, rotate chores,” Hangyul counts off on his fingers. “Quiet hours. Mind your own space. Oh, and no shoes in the house, I guess?”

Wooseok exhales, eyebrows raised. “You read them.”

“It’s on the ad.”

“The ad is seven paragraphs long.”

Hangyul shrugs. “You put it there for a reason, right? Those rules are important to you?”

“I—yes.” Wooseok blinks. “Yes. They are.”

“Okay,” Hangyul says. “Then we’re cool.”

“And the rest of it?” Wooseok asks. “The bill splitting for electric and internet service?”

“Yeah, sure,” Hangyul says. “Seems fair to me. I don’t think you’re trying to cheat me out of anything.” He grins slyly. “ _Are_ you trying to cheat me?”

“What? No.” Wooseok’s tail flicks. He leans against the counter with a sigh and crosses his arms. “Look, Hangyul, I’ll be honest with you—I haven’t had much interest since the time I first posted my ad. You’re the only person who’s come by this week.”

“Not surprised,” Hangyul says. “If you loosened up the rules—"

“Not an option,” Wooseok denies flatly.

“Well, that’s probably why,” Hangyul says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Yeah,” Wooseok says. He sighs again. “I know. In any case, I don’t have a lot of options with the school year having just started. I really need someone in here fast, so…” He meets Hangyul’s eyes. “If you’re seriously interested, I’d like to have you.”

“Seriously?” Hangyul blurts. “I mean…”

“You’ll follow my rules,” Wooseok says. “You have a job. You…seem nice.”

“Okay,” Hangyul says. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wooseok says.

—XXX—

“ _Are you crazy?!_ ”

Hangyul holds the phone away from his ear and winces. He waits until Dohyun has let out a few frustrated barks before he puts it back up to his ear. “You told me to pick a strong and fair roommate,” Hangyul says in a small voice.

“ _I never said to get a cat!_ ” Dohyun wails. “ _I was thinking like a wolf or a bear or a big deer, not—not—seriously, are you crazy?_ ”

“He’s nice,” Hangyul mumbles.

“ _He has a strict list of rules for you to follow and he doesn’t smile. How is that nice?_ ”

A pause. “You’ve got me there,” Hangyul admits.

“ _I’m surprised he even let you through the door. It’s not like you’re a Pomeranian._ ”

“So was I. I’ve never been so close to a cat hybrid before.”

“ _There’s a reason for that,_ ” Dohyun sighs. “ _I know you like to do things your own way, hyung, but surely even you know that cats and dogs don’t get along? I mean, everyone knows._ ”

Hangyul rebounds a bouncy ball off the wall and catches it. “I know that.”

“ _Then why—_ "

“It’s not like I have anything against cats,” Hangyul says. “I thought it’d be interesting to meet him, if nothing else.”

“ _And you really think you’ll be able to put up with a strict, cold roommate who doesn’t understand any of your body language? Who doesn’t understand yours?_ ”

“We’re human, aren’t we?” Hangyul argues stubbornly. “If I don’t get something, all I have to do is ask.”

“ _I guess_ ,” Dohyun relents. “ _Won’t you get tired of always asking questions, though? I mean, if you found a nice jackal or something you wouldn’t have to think twice_.”

“Yeah,” Hangyul says. “It would be easier. I’m not looking to replace you, though.”

Dohyun is silent.

Hangyul huffs. “Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a temper tantrum or a lingering depression. But I’ve lived most of my adult life raised by dogs and living with dogs and being friends with dogs. You moving away has finally forced me from the den, so why not try something different? I can always leave if it becomes unbearable.”

“ _That’s true, but…_ ” Dohyun laughs lightly on the other end of the line. “ _I don’t think many people are as straightforward and fearless as you_.”

“Fearless?” Hangyul frowns. “I’m plenty scared of Wooseok.”

“ _Life_ ,” Dohyun says. “ _You’re not scared to live your life your way._ ”

Hangyul is quiet after that.

—XXX—

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” 

Wooseok hovers at the top of the stairs outside their apartment, crossing and uncrossing his arms. Hangyul’s the one huffing and puffing as he carries boxes up the stairs, but Wooseok is a little pink in the cheeks too. Hangyul surmises that Wooseok must not entertain people much. He pauses one step from the top and places his box down. He straightens up to look at Wooseok and Wooseok unconsciously straightens as well.

Hangyul claps him on the upper arm. Wooseok’s hair puffs up and his pupils shrink. 

“At ease, soldier,” Hangyul teases. “I’m the intruder, you know. No need to be so considerate. This is your house; just continue living in it.”

Wooseok hasn’t de-puffed. Hangyul belatedly considers that he might have missed a cultural difference between their species. Wooseok doesn’t say anything, so Hangyul picks up his box and continues into the apartment. Wooseok slinks in after him and takes up post in the kitchen, starting a pot of tea. He stays in the kitchen for the remainder of Hangyul’s move, eyes tracking Hangyul’s movement across the apartment over the rim of a teacup. 

Hangyul tries not to let it bother him. Wooseok is probably as curious about him as he is of Wooseok. It’s a little embarrassing to be under a microscope, but Hangyul has the welcome distraction of physical labor. Extremely welcome—Hangyul moves faster once he gets started, his canid instincts overjoyed at having a _purpose_ , especially a _physical_ _purpose_. He drives the trailer back to the rental lot once he’s emptied his belongings and by the time he arrives back at the apartment, he’s starving and ready for a fat nap on a pile of blankets and clothes since he hasn’t reconstructed his bed frame yet.

“Did I spill something on my shirt?” Hangyul asks, because once he lets himself in, Wooseok’s eyes are on him immediately, pupils wide. He pats his shirt and pants self-consciously.

“Oh,” Wooseok says. “No, it’s not—you’re not—"

Hm. Another weird cat thing, then. Hangyul scratches behind his ear and offers Wooseok a shy smile. 

“You’re fine,” Wooseok mumbles. Then sighs and presses a hand to his forehead. “Do you...do you want to watch a movie?”

Hangyul blinks. “Oh. Sure.”

Wooseok’s ear flicks a couple times. “I’m sure you have plenty of unpacking to do, so don’t feel pressured if—"

“I would love to not think about unpacking,” Hangyul says. He points at one of the canvas grocery bags he’d left on the counter. “I have instant ramen?”

Wooseok smiles for the first time, a small, birdlike smile that is gone as soon as he clears his throat and straightens up. “I’ll set up the TV.”

They sit on opposite ends of the couch with their bowls of ramen set on the armrests, so spread apart that Hangyul can’t feel when Wooseok shifts in place. Wooseok tucks his legs in tightly and wraps his tail over the tops of his feet. Hangyul is wearing socks, but Wooseok is barefoot, and Hangyul catches a glimpse of his soft toes and pads, claws retracted, before they are covered. It must be handy, Hangyul thinks, eyeing the nails that poke through the front of his own socks. 

The fingers holding his chopsticks are dainty, too. Soft fingertips that can become deadly weapons. Everything that is bulky and awkward on canids is slimmed and perfected in felids. He feels a pang of envy and suddenly, Hangyul thinks he might understand why cats and dogs don’t get along. 

But the emotion moves through him like water and he’s left only with the urge to tell Wooseok how cool his retractable claws are. 

On the television, the movie starts and Wooseok and Hangyul’s ears tilt towards the sound without thinking. Later, Hangyul decides. They’re roommates now. There will be plenty of time to talk.

—XXX—

Well. It would’ve been nice if it was as easy as Hangyul pictured. But he might have underestimated how big their cultural differences are. Hangyul is used to a day or two of awkwardness between him and other canids before they’re jumping on each other, thick as thieves, but Wooseok is flighty even after a week of living together. Hangyul would’ve thought Wooseok straight up disliked him if not for the small peace offerings Wooseok leaves for him—extra food with a note saying Hangyul is welcome to it; cleaning up his dishes if he forgets and waving off Hangyul when he apologizes; the movies they watch in the evenings, the length of the couch between them. 

So Hangyul goes into observation mode. 

Observation #1: Everything he knows about tails is a lie. Hangyul saved Wooseok from a falling box on laundry day, and out of necessity, he ended up pressed against Wooseok’s back to catch the box. Wooseok freaked, putting a good two meters of distance between them, pupils blown and tail lashing. Hangyul wagged his tail in automatic response to seeing another wagging tail, but Wooseok’s expression was not welcoming. Borderline hostile.

“Don’t,” Wooseok warned in a low voice. “Don’t do that again.”

“Save you?” Hangyul asked, putting the box back in its place.

“Don’t get in my space,” Wooseok said. “For any reason.”

“Even if you’re—“

“For any reason.”

Straightforward enough. Hangyul can take orders. Wooseok’s tail becomes a good indicator of his mood, even if he keeps that same straight face and even voice. The twitching of Wooseok’s tail indicates annoyance, stopping Hangyul in his tracks before Wooseok can say anything. He never lashes his tail again like that, but Hangyul assumes he must have been really pissed. 

Wooseok also fluffs his tail up when startled by Hangyul slamming a door, or a motorcycle driving by. It’s pretty cute, actually. His hair gets fluffed too, and all the hairs on his tail stand straight out. With such long fur, he looks like a feather duster. It’s all Hangyul can do not to reach out and grab it. He’s a champion, really, for resisting.

Observation #2: Pupils hold no answers, only confusion. Wooseok’s pupils change shape constantly. In the morning, when light is streaming into their kitchen and living room, Wooseok’s pupils are thin slits, widening to normal pupils as the light retreats with afternoon approaching. But outside of environmental effects, Wooseok’s pupils will blow wide in response to...well, anything.

When he’s startled. When he’s focused on cooking. When he’s playing videogames. And every time Hangyul walks into the room. Hangyul has seen how Wooseok’s pupils change as he lifts his eyes from his book to light on Hangyul. Relaxed round slits expanding to shark-like circles that swallow the color of Wooseok’s eyes. Is it fear? Apprehension? Focus?

Hangyul can’t bring himself to ask. The answer will probably make him sad.

Observation #3: When Wooseok said he wanted Hangyul to ‘keep to his own space,’ he meant personal space as in...personal space. Wooseok will not let Hangyul get close. They cook in turns. When Hangyul passes Wooseok to get to the fridge, Wooseok’s hair will stand on end until Hangyul has retreated. He scurries quickly past Hangyul when trading places in the shower room. The distance never closes on the couch. And this...this is the one difference that hurts Hangyul a little. He’s a canid—he thrives on physical interaction. It’s his second language. The distance between him and Wooseok might as well be an ocean.

He has to ask about it. “Your boundaries,” he says, perched on a barstool, watching Wooseok make a smoothie. “Is it a you thing, or a cat thing?”

Wooseok hesitates for the blink of an eye, then continues dumping soy milk into the blender. “What do you mean?”

“The physical distance,” Hangyul says. “I mean, you really hate to be too close to me.”

Wooseok blinks rapidly. “I don’t hate it. It’s just…” He turns on the blender to avoid finishing his sentence.

“I’m not—I mean, I want to understand, that’s all,” Hangyul says when the blender comes to a stop. “For a canid, it’s kind of…”

“I know,” Wooseok says. “Dogs are touchy-feely, right?”

Hangyul nods. 

“Cats are careful,” Wooseok says, pouring the smoothie into two glasses. “We’re predators, like dogs, but we’re smaller. Fragile. Smaller cats...they can get hurt. They’re not the top of the food chain. That wariness carries through to hybrids as well. It’s built into the feline genetic code. It’s unavoidable.”

He places one of the glasses in front of Hangyul. “It’s hard to become comfortable around another person. I’ll admit I am particularly neurotic about my personal space but…”

“Okay,” Hangyul says.

Wooseok looks up. “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll wait,” Hangyul says. “It makes sense. I don’t want to pressure you to go against your instincts or whatever.” He shrugs one shoulder. “You’ll get used to me. It’s like how after a while you look right past things in your home ‘cause you’re used to them. I’ll become the same as a chair in your mind eventually.”

That earns a small smile from Wooseok. “Eventually,” he says.

Observation #4: Despite everything, despite Wooseok’s instincts and their differences and Hangyul’s frustration, despite the wary behavior and the space between them...Wooseok likes him. And Hangyul likes him, too.

—XXX—

“One step forward, two steps back,” Hangyul says, half his body draped over the table. “That’s what it feels like, talking to cats.” He frowns. “That’s not...offensive, is it?”

Across the break room, Claire pours coffee into a cup, her thick tail held low and out of way, lest any long hairs end up in her drink. She shoots Hangyul a grin. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe not. Depends on the cat, I guess.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Hangyul says with feeling.

Claire is a Himalayan, and has become his closest coworker. She started at the health center at the same time as him and has a terrible sense of direction. He can’t count the number of times he’s had to guide her around the health center or rescue her from the clutches of a broom closet that she swears appeared out of nowhere. And once she showed neutral to positive reactions to his questions about cat hybrids, Pandora’s box opened.

“What can I say?” Claire says. She sits down across from Hangyul and props her chin up with perfect, clawless fingers. “If it weren’t for the ears and tails, we might as well be plain human beings. Complicated, messy in the brain. The works.”

“That’s not true,” Hangyul says. 

Claire gives him a look.

“Okay, the complicated part is true,” Hangyul clarifies. “But cats have as many weird instincts as dogs. I keep thinking I’ve got it figured out, then it turns out I have it all backwards.”

“Sounds like cats alright.” Claire throws up a peace sign.

Hangyul thumps his head against the table. 

He is brought upright once more by the soft pads of Claire’s hand on the back of his. She smiles warmly at him and takes his hand. 

“I don’t mind talking to you about us,” Claire says, “but a girl wonders why you’re so fixated on cat hybrids.”

“Oh,” Hangyul says. He looks down at their clasped hands. “Well, my roommate is a cat.”

“Ah,” she says. “It’s starting to make sense now. They drive you crazy?”

Hangyul starts to shake his head, then pauses and nods slowly. “Yes. Well, a little bit. I’m more frustrated at myself that I can’t figure out what he’s feeling. I ask, but…” Hangyul clears his throat, flushing. “It’s a little embarrassing, to be so incompetent.”

Claire laughs, a sound like bells tinkling. Hangyul smiles a little, despite himself. 

“Please don’t take it personally,” Claire says. “Cats are cold by nature. We can’t help it. We’re free spirits.”

“Oh, he’s not cold,” Hangyul says. “He’s really funny. And awkward. Well. I guess you could say he’s cold, but I never got that feeling, even the first time I met him. Reserved, yes, but it’s cute. Like he’s not sure how to be friends. And he’s painfully considerate of me. Even though I’m kind of scary—I’m a large breed mutt, you know—he’s still...always so…” Hangyul trails off. “You’re laughing.”

Claire covers her smile. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eyes twinkle.

Hangyul whines in the back of his throat. “What? What’d I say?”

“Nothing,” Claire says. “I just underestimated you. Of course you wouldn’t think a cat is cold.”

Hangyul tilts his head. 

Claire threads their fingers together. “Do you know why I never mind talking to you about this stuff? Or why I’m so comfortable around you? We are still dog and cat, you know.”

“...I never really thought about it,” Hangyul confesses.

“You wouldn’t,” she teases gently. “You’re too straightforward and honest.”

“I thought that was a good thing,” Hangyul grumbles.

“It is,” Claire says. “It’s the best part of being a dog, without the overbearing and bull-headed parts.”

She lets out a rumbling laugh. “I haven’t felt afraid or wary of you, not since the day you rescued me from the fourth floor when I got turned around at the women’s clinic. You make being friends comfortable, so it’s not hard for me to talk to you, or hold hands like we are now. Dogs like this, right?”

“Yeah,” Hangyul says, shy. He’d been resisting until now, but he lets his tail wag lightly.

“You’re sweet,” Claire says. “You’re a good man, and a good dog.”

Hangyul is helpless to how hard his tail wags in response.

“Your roommate might be difficult now, but he won’t be able to resist your charm for long,” Claire promises. “Cats are independent, but can I tell you a little secret? What we want above all else is a comfortable friend we can flatten our fur around.”

“I hope you’re right,” Hangyul says.

“Of course I am,” she says, smiling. “After all, you really like cats, don’t you?”

—XXX—

Does he? Does Hangyul like cats?

Well, of course. He doesn’t dislike them. He likes Claire and he likes Wooseok. There’s nothing about them that suggests he would dislike other cats if he met them. But does he _really_ _like_ cats? 

That, Hangyul isn’t quite sure about.

He decides to people-watch on the walk to the parking garage. It’s as expected: carnivores and herbivores tend to group with their likeness; couples tend to be of the same genus or family; and the more social the species, the bigger groups they form. There are some exceptions—bird hybrids flock together regardless of predator or prey, and animals that tend to form large herds or colonies will overlap, like the mice and antelopes doing yoga on the green. 

Hangyul can’t explain what he’s looking for in the other people on campus. Is it confirmation of the natural order? Search for other exceptions? If he’s trying to justify his friendship with cats, he finds no supporting evidence in the students passing by.

—There’s a wolf hybrid walking in the opposite direction from him. He’s a bigger species, maned wolf if Hangyul had to hazard a guess. The wolf catches Hangyul’s scent as Hangyul catches his and glances up from the ground, shoulders hunched. They lock eyes.

Hangyul feels tingling behind his eyes and in his muscles. The feeling of recognition; of understanding what the slowing of the wolf’s steps mean. Hangyul feels the pull to run with this stranger, to rub shoulders and familiarize himself with his scent. He knows, instinctually, that they are a match. That he would understand this strange wolf like he was an extension of Hangyul himself, if they were to interact. Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? To feel one with another? Shouldn’t this be how Hangyul selects his friendships?

The wolf nods at Hangyul when they pass, ears cocked in his direction. Hangyul returns the nod. He turns his eyes forward once more and as if by fate, they land on Wooseok, pushing open the door of the law school building.

Wooseok’s nose twitches and his ears turn back and forth, adjusting to the outside environment. His right ear catches something, turning to the side, and with it his head turns. He meets Hangyul’s eyes as Hangyul comes to a stop.

Yes, it would be easy to be a dog amongst dogs and wolves. It would be familiar and comfortable and Hangyul could go to sleep happy every night. 

Wooseok turns both his ears in Hangyul’s direction and blinks slowly.

Maybe, Hangyul admits grudgingly, maybe he really does like cats. He jogs the distance between them.

.

.

.

“I didn’t know you worked at a university, let alone mine,” Wooseok says.

“I didn’t think it was important to mention,” Hangyul says. “Sorry.” More like he hadn’t thought Wooseok would care and it was awkward to offer up that information randomly, anyway.

“No, it’s fine.” Wooseok rubs his nose. “I should’ve asked.”

It’s weird to walk to their cars together, but it would be even weirder to see each other and not walk together. Hangyul feels a little embarrassed—exposed, even—being with Wooseok in public. They’re not doing anything wrong, or even strange, but their not-quite-friends status and Hangyul’s own obsessive analysis of Wooseok makes him stiffer than usual.

“You wanted to work at the health center?” Wooseok asks. “Not a hospital?”

“Smells better,” Hangyul says.

Wooseok smiles, then stuffs his face in his scarf. Hangyul’s heart thumps happily.

On the outside, there’s nothing unusual about a pair of acquaintances walking together, but… “Am I missing something?” Hangyul asks.

He’s sure he’s imagining it, but it feels like every person’s eyes are on them. There’s at least some degree of staring. Has he vastly underestimated how taboo a friendship between cats and dogs is?

Wooseok makes an interrogative noise.

“Everyone is looking at us,” Hangyul says. “Or is it just me? Oh god, are my scrubs dirty?”

“Oh,” Wooseok says in a strange voice. “No, it’s not you.”

“But they’re staring, aren't they? I’m not losing it?”

“They’re staring at me,” Wooseok says after a moment.

Hangyul glances at him. “You? Why?”

Wooseok glances back at him but can’t hold his gaze. “...You really don’t know?” He mumbles.

“No.” Hangyul feels nervous, suddenly. “Why? Should I? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wooseok says. “It’s fine; don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worrying.”

Wooseok’s tail lashes. “Well, don’t.”

“Wooseok.”

“Hangyul.”

Hangyul flares his nostrils and steps into Wooseok’s space, their shoulders brushing. 

Wooseok stutters to a stop, bristling. “What are you doing?”

“I’m worrying,” Hangyul says. “Don’t you know dogs close ranks when in danger?”

“There’s no _danger_ ,” Wooseok hisses. “And I’m not a dog—don’t _follow_ me.”

He tries to step around Hangyul and Hangyul dogs him, keeping in his space. 

Wooseok’s ears flatten against his skull. “Stop it. You’re causing a scene.”

He’s not wrong. Anyone who wasn’t staring before definitely is now, a few poised to interfere if their dispute gets serious. To stop him. 

It weighs on Hangyul suddenly. His large hands and the claws he can’t withdraw. The fangs in his mouth and the power of his jaw. His muscles, his heart, his lungs, designed to be unstoppable. Next to Wooseok’s delicate strength, he is a brute force and a perceptible threat.

Hangyul shrinks back.

Something changes behind Wooseok’s eyes. He exhales through his nose and takes two purposeful steps forward, grabbing Hangyul by the arm and dragging him away. 

“Wooseok—“ Hangyul starts.

“Drop it,” Wooseok orders.

“But…”

“ _Drop_ _it_.”

.

.

.

In front of his car, Wooseok buries his face in his hands. 

Hangyul hovers in front of him—distance between them restored—unsure if he should stay or go. Thankfully the lot is mostly deserted. 

He’s about made up his mind to go when Wooseok drops his hands and straightens up. “I’m an Angora,” Wooseok says solemnly. His eyes scan Hangyul’s frantically.

For what? Hangyul has no idea. “Uh, that’s nice?”

“You don’t—" Wooseok stutters. “You don’t know?”

“Obviously not,” Hangyul snaps. “If it wasn’t obvious, I’m not a cat, and apparently I’m as good as illiterate when it comes to anything that relates to cats. So please spare the disbelief for the sake of this imbecile’s pride.”

Wooseok flinches and draws back. Hangyul hates that he feels like a bully.

“No, you’re right,” Wooseok says. “That was...elitist of me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t act like everything about my breed is common knowledge.”

Hangyul softens. “You’re forgiven. Can you just...explain it to me? Why was everyone staring at you?”

“My breed is…” Wooseok hesitates. “We’re famous for being charmers. The long, silky tails, beautiful coats, heterochromia. There’s an inborn charisma that comes with being an Angora cat hybrid. When combined with decent looks, a sense of style, and intelligence…”

Hangyul blinks. “You’re popular.”

“Too popular,” Wooseok grouses. “I didn’t do anything, but I’ve been a campus celebrity since undergrad. At times it has gotten extreme.”

“What, like, stalkers and stuff?” Hangyul is exaggerating, but Wooseok’s stony face makes his heart sink. “No, really?”

“Yes,” Wooseok says. 

“Wooseok…”

“There haven’t been any for a while,” Wooseok says, squaring his shoulders. “On campus, it’s easy enough to deal with. I keep to myself and I’m inside most of the day anyway. But I guess it’s still a sight to see an Angora keeping company.”

“I’ve caused you trouble,” Hangyul says.

To his surprise, Wooseok shakes his head fiercely. “No, no, you haven’t. If someone has a problem with me having friends, that’s their own fucked-up problem. You’re not—not trouble.”

“You’re my friend?” Hangyul asks. His tail starts to wag.

“Don’t make it weird,” Wooseok growls.

“Okay, yep.” Hangyul’s tail wags harder. “Not making it weird.”

Wooseok lets out a long-suffering sigh.

He presses his fingers together. “To be honest, that’s why my apartment ad was so strict. I wanted to appear strong and put on a cold persona if I had to. To avoid my fanatics and anyone who might be charmed, but also find a roommate at all—I thought it was an impossible needle to thread.” He looks up. “I thought it would be worth taking a chance on my natural enemy.”

Hangyul tilts his head.

Wooseok sighs again. “There’s nothing ‘enemy’ about you, though. You’re so...weird.”

“Weird…bad?”

Wooseok shakes his head. “No. Hard to understand, yes. Unnerving at times, yes. But not bad.” He drops his eyes to his hands. “You’re...nice. Just very...nice.”

Hangyul beams. “And I’m your friend.”

“Don’t push it.”

—XXX—

Hangyul expects it to hurt when Dohyun tells him about the friends he’s making at university. They’re closer than blood brothers; each other’s best friend. To have his role usurped by people who don’t know Dohyun like Hangyul knows him makes him nervous. He wants to know that Dohyun will be well cared for.

But as Dohyun describes the mud wrestling and the games of frisbee and the slushies at 3am with an exam the next morning, Hangyul’s fears melt away. He expects to feel abandoned, but all he can feel is proud that Dohyun is doing so well and having fun and making friends. He can hear it in Dohyun’s voice—this is genuine happiness. He lies in bed with his eyes closed, imagining Dohyun’s adventures as he tells them.

“What about you?” Dohyun asks. “Is the...roommate situation...working out alright?”

_If someone has a problem with me having friends, that’s their own fucked up problem._

Hangyul smiles, despite himself. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

“You’re happy,” Dohyun says. “I can hear it in your voice. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Hangyul says.

“You are.” Dohyun lets out a happy sigh. “I’m relieved.”

“We’re okay,” Hangyul says. “We really are.”

—XXX—

“You were waiting?”

Hangyul looks up from where he’s leaning against the side of the law school building. Fortunately, Wooseok looks more amused than annoyed. He closes the door behind him and wraps his coat tighter around his body.

“Just happened to be in the area,” Hangyul says, falling into step beside him.

“Liar,” Wooseok says. “When’d you get off work?”

Hangyul shrugs his shoulders, cheeky.

Wooseok rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Don’t tell me.”

He’s more prepared for the looks they get on the way to the parking lot this time. Hangyul meets the eyes of other students and holds their gaze until they break first. There’s quite a few of them who want to make that a challenge. Unconsciously, Hangyul closes the distance between him and Wooseok.

His concentration is broken by Wooseok snapping his tail against Hangyul’s thigh. He glances down. “What?”

“You’re about as subtle as a spotlight,” Wooseok grouses. “Stop clinging.”

“I’m not clinging,” Hangyul retorts. He puts space between them again, but as he stares down more people, he ends up drawing close to Wooseok again.

“Hasn’t anyone told you,” Wooseok starts, “that cats don’t like to be kept?”

“Kept? What?” Hangyul bears his teeth at a jaguar hybrid.

“You’re herding me,” Wooseok says.

“I’m not a cattledog,” Hangyul says.

“And I’m not a sheep,” Wooseok says. “You don’t need to be so protective.”

“Sorry,” Hangyul says. Wooseok shoots him a disbelieving look and Hangyul grins.

Wooseok doesn’t push him away, though. And when Hangyul shows up at the same time the next day, Wooseok rolls his eyes and says nothing at all.

—XXX—

Hangyul holds his breath the first time Wooseok doesn’t tense when they’re in the kitchen at the same time. He thinks it’s a fluke, but ever since their meeting on campus and Wooseok’s confession of his reputation, the last frost of Wooseok’s personality has melted. He stretches out on the couch and doesn’t mind when Hangyul does, either. He’ll flick Hangyul with his tail when they’re bickering with a smile on his face. They can cook together. They can brush their teeth together.

Wooseok’s pupils are still wide when he sees Hangyul, but Hangyul doesn’t feel threatened by it anymore.

He’d missed this, the easy camaraderie of friends. At one point he had even believed it wouldn’t be possible between them. Wooseok isn’t a dog; doesn’t play like one, doesn’t talk like one, but he’s a good enough substitute. Sometimes, Hangyul thinks he might even be better.

Wooseok sings badly to the pop song playing over the bluetooth speaker. He washes the last of the plates and hands it to Hangyul to dry with sparkling eyes. Hangyul rolls his eyes, patting down the plate and slotting it into the drying rack. 

“I’m a beautiful singer,” Wooseok says.

“You are,” Hangyul says, “when you’re not being obnoxious on purpose.”

“Me? Obnoxious? Never.” Wooseok flicks Hangyul’s nose with his tail.

Hangyul sneezes and bats away Wooseok’s tail. Wooseok gives him that self-satisfied bird smile. Hangyul is helpless to the way his heart squeezes. He drops the dish towel on the counter and scrubs the top of Wooseok’s head fondly with his free hand.

Wooseok freezes. Hangyul also freezes.

His mouth finds words before Wooseok’s. “That was—was that—I didn’t mean to—"

Wooseok’s eyes are wide, his fur puffed.

Hangyul holds his hands up and steps back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

“You pet me,” Wooseok accuses, half disbelief and half wonder.

“Er,” Hangyul says. “Not intentionally.”

“No one’s ever...pet me before,” Wooseok says.

“Did it hurt?” Hangyul asks, wincing. “I’ve never...uh, pet someone like you, either.”

“No,” Wooseok says. “No, it was…I think it was nice.”

They lock eyes. _Don’t_ , a voice like Dohyun’s says in Hangyul’s head. _What are you thinking about right now? Don’t_.

Hangyul ignores it. He reaches out, tentatively, to Wooseok. Wooseok looks at his hand with huge eyes but doesn’t move. He folds his ears back and closes his eyes as Hangyul touches the top of his head. He pats down Wooseok’s fluffed hair with small strokes, giving Wooseok time to flee if he needs to. Wooseok flinches at the first few pats, but his eyes don’t open and as if heedless of his own body, he leans into it, pushing his head into Hangyul’s hand.

 _Oh_ , Hangyul thinks.

Wooseok lets out a low growl that startles them both. Hangyul pulls away immediately, but to his surprise Wooseok follows him, grabbing for his wrist. Hangyul steps back and his lower back hits the counter. Wooseok follows him, looking at his own hands cupping Hangyul’s hand as if his body were not his own. Wooseok growls again and Hangyul whines in the back of his throat.

“I don’t—" Wooseok is cut off by another soft growl. “I don’t know why this is happening. I’m not usually—" Another growl. “—like this.”

“Why are you growling at me?” Hangyul asks.

Wooseok looks at him. “What? I’m not—" He growls again, and then Hangyul realizes it’s not growling at all, but purring.

“I can’t control it,” Wooseok confesses in a small voice. “It just—" Loud purring. “—happens."

“Are you scared?” Hangyul asks. “Cats purr when they’re scared or hurt or happy, I think. I read about it. Which is really fucked up, by the way.”

“Is now really the time—"

“Do you need me to go?” Hangyul asks. “Because I can—" 

He takes a step to the side and Wooseok blurts out, “No!” before extending his claws and latching onto the sleeves of Hangyul shirt. Hangyul catches him by the elbows, instinctually, and then he can feel it. The low rumbling through Wooseok’s body, almost a tremble.

Wooseok buries his face in Hangyul’s shoulder. “This is so embarrassing.”

Hangyul wraps Wooseok in a light embrace. The purring increases in volume and Wooseok’s fingers clench and unclench in Hangyul’s shirt, his claws piercing the fabric.

“This is so uncool,” Wooseok mutters. “After all that—"

“Not scared,” Hangyul says, wonder in his voice. “You’re not scared of me.”

“...I guess not,” Wooseok says in a small voice.

“And you’re not hurt,” Hangyul says. “You’re...happy?”

“ _No_ ,” Wooseok says, but the rest of his sentence is cut off by purring.

“...Yes,” Wooseok grumbles.

He’s so warm. And so soft. Softer than Hangyul had imagined. He noses the top of Wooseok’s head, snuffling at his soft hair. He has that almost baby powder like scent Claire has, something clean but animal. Hangyul’s tail thumps rapidly between his leg and the counter.

“Your tail,” Wooseok says. “You’re happy too?”

“I’m always happy when I’m around you,” Hangyul says.

“Don’t,” Wooseok groans. “That’s so embarrassing, you’re so—"

He purrs loud enough to drown out his own words and rolls his eyes at himself. Giving up, Wooseok sinks bonelessly into Hangyul’s embrace. Hangyul reaches a hand up to pet Wooseok’s head. Wooseok closes his eyes.

“Am I a chair yet?” Hangyul asks in a whisper.

Wooseok socks him in the arm. “You’re a scratching post,” he says in between purrs.

“And you’re a dog,” Wooseok says. “You’re a very, very good dog.”

Hangyul beams.

.

.

.


End file.
